


Life Debt

by Bofur1



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cousins, Danglers, Earrings, Explanations, Family Feels, Gen, Happy Ending, Hunting, Major Character Injury, Violence, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A comment conversation with in_a_blog_in_the_ground plus this prompt:<br/>'<em>Something with pre-axe-in-head Bifur?<em></em></em>'</p><p>There have been violent warg attacks in the north area of town. This group of nine Dwarves plans to stop them.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [in_a_blog_in_the_ground](https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_a_blog_in_the_ground/gifts).



Bifur, son of Hifur, stood, stretching. “Well, Uncle Bromur, Aunt Joniver, thank you for letting me spend the night and for a great breakfast. Still, I think it’s best I head out.”

“It’s our pleasure, nephew. We know the lads love it when you come,” Uncle Bromur answered kindly.

“Where’re ye off t’, Bif?” Joniver wanted to know.

Bifur sobered. “These past few weeks there have been some warg attacks on the other end of town. The beasts are growing bolder. One of the little Man children was scared half to death yesterday. Nearly lost his life, had his father not come and rescued him.”

“Mahal protect ’em,” Joniver murmured, adjusting twenty-five-year-old Bombur on her hip.

“Prince Thorin has told the captain of the guard—Dwalin, I believe his name is—to rally a hearty group and drive the beasts out,” Bifur continued seriously. “I plan to join them.”

“When can I go huntin’ with ye, cousin Bifur?” thirty-year-old Bofur asked, eyes shining with excitement.

“Be good, mind your Ama, and maybe this next time I’ll take you,” Bifur answered mildly. If only Bofur knew...

“No, no,” Joniver cut in firmly, encircling her son and pulling him against her. “M’ young Bofur has a few more years t’ go before he starts chasin’ down wargs!”

“But Ama,” Bofur complained, pulling away to face his mother. “This is the only time I’ll be able t’; with Bif’ on the team, I don’t think wargs would come again! Please, _please_ let me go!” He clasped his hands in prayer-like supplication. “I’ll be very good an’ I won’t tease Bombur an’ I’ll eat all m’ veggies an’ I’ll even clean up m’ room!”

“Ye’re s’posed t’ be doin’ all those things anyway,” Joniver answered sternly. “Now say g’bye t’ yer cousin an’ _then_ clean yer room.”

Bofur looked crestfallen. “But...”

“I don’t see any harm in it, Joni,” Bromur said suddenly. “He’s getting older and he’ll have to learn these things anyway before too long.”

“...I’ll let you discuss that,” Bifur cut in. “I’ve got to be off.” He patted his young cousin’s head. “I’ll see you later, Bofur.”

Bofur flung his arms around Bifur’s waist, whispering into his shirt, “I can sneak out when Ama an’ Adad aren’t lookin’, then I’ll come with ye.” Because the words were muffled, Bifur simply assumed he was saying goodbye.

After more hugs all around, Bifur waved with a grin and headed down the path. As soon as he could no longer see his uncle’s family, Bifur’s smile faded. It was time to move on to more serious business.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's useless arguing and Bifur is fed up.

Bifur met with a group of nine Dwarves in Dwalin’s home. Though the Captain’s elder brother Balin served tea, none of them had the stomach for it. The battle would be violent and bloody. It wasn’t that they were not used to killing or were not good at it, but it didn’t mean that they enjoyed it.

“We can’t waste time,” Thorin said. The urgency in his voice brought Bifur back to the present. “A young girl was attacked this morning. She’s been hospitalized.” There were grim murmurs among the group and Dwalin began laying out a strategy.

“We play the enemies’ game,” he rumbled. “So far they’ve been—”

“No, no.”

Dwalin looked up, hooded brows raised. “Excuse me?”

One of the other Dwarves—Bifur vaguely remembered his name was Dori—was shaking his head. “The wargs are _beasts_. Beasts change their patterns on a whim; we can’t trust them to attack in formation like soldiers.”

“A good point,” agreed Dori’s brother, surprising them all. Nori and Dori rarely agreed on anything.

“We can’t just run around like crazy people hunting down stray wargs and killing them,” Glóin objected. “There must be some order, at least.”

Bifur had been silent the entire meeting. Now he exhaled in impatience and sat forward, setting his arms on the table with just enough force to rattle the untouched teacups. “Listen, all of you. We can split up. Wait in different vantage points around the recent areas of the attacks. A few of us also can wait nearer the southern side of town; some of the beasts likely will advance further inside because their previous attacks have been impeded. Those in the upper vantage points can strike first and if anything gets past, we who are deeper in the town will take them down.” He locked eyes first with Dwalin and then with Dori as he added emphatically, “We’ll be playing the enemies’ game and also looking ahead.”

There was a long moment of silence as the others processed this long dissertation from a Dwarf they’d barely noticed before. At last Thorin said slowly, “Seems like a sound plan...Dwalin?”

“Aye, it’s good,” Dwalin agreed. Assured that the meeting was over, they all stood and clasped arms.

As they strapped on weapons, Bifur heard a voice behind him. “Oi, what’s your name, mate?” Bifur turned to see Nori watching him intently with topaz-brown eyes.

Bifur ran his hands up and down the handle of his late mother’s boar spear and answered, “Bifur, son of Hifur.”

“‘Twas a good speech there. It’s rare someone has the guts to stand up to both Dori _and_ Dwalin.” Nori seemed to find this funny, for he laughed. Bifur ducked his head. He didn’t know what he thought of laughter just before a battle that might hold their families in the balance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is significantly longer than the others because...well, just because.  
> Warning: *descriptive violence*

Bifur leaned his chin onto his palm, eyes lazily sweeping the ground below. He’d been sprawled upon this tree branch for at least three hours with no action. His neck and lower back were beginning to cramp. Bifur decided to drop to the ground for a moment to stretch and then return to his high vantage point.

Landing softly with a puff of earthy dust, Bifur knit his fingers together and stretched deliberately, groaning his pleasure as his bones cracked into place. He shook his head back and forth to rid his hair of the sweat beads and prepared to climb back to his perch when he caught something in his peripheral vision. He turned to look and his jaw dropped. Seven wargs, a miniature pack, were approaching the outskirts of town.

Fumbling at his belt, Bifur reached for his signal horn, but there was no need. A dark streak darted forward and the first warg fell in a puddle of blood at Thorin’s feet. Dwalin was soon shielding Thorin’s back, twirling his axes with the ease of many years.

The chilling sounds of battle which Bifur had been dreading began. But in the next instant, he froze, his limbs goin numb. When he looked at the crest of the faraway hill, he caught sight of the rest of the pack. Unlike what Dori had said, the twenty+ wargs seemed like an army, howling and charging in a mad dash right toward them.

 _No fear, no fear, no fear!_ Bifur’s mind screamed and he drew his spear, sprinting to Thorin and Dwalin. He cut off a warg that would have caught Dwalin off guard and skewered it between the eyes in a great spray of blood that stained his hands and arms.

“Nice one!” Dwalin shouted above the din. With a finalizing crunch his axe blade sank into the cardiovascular nerve of another, sweeping so deeply into its neck that the head went flying off.

Bifur barely registered the compliment, instead crying, “Where’re the others?! They were supposed to have our backs!”

“They’re likely having problems of their own!” Thorin answered, jerking his head toward the southern side. Bifur whirled to look and as a warg lunged at him he maneuvered his spearhead up under the rib cage. He remembered being a boy when his father had died; never having been taught the weak areas of animals, he’d been forced to learn the ways of the hunt on his own. He’d learned well, he decided as he shook the corpse off his weapon.

When he had a free moment, Bifur craned his neck to look where Thorin had indicated and saw in the distance Dori, Nori, and Glóin fighting savagely against their own oversized ambush.

Dori’s bolas were a spinning tornado in the air, the chains lunging like poised vipers to chomp their spiked ends viciously into his warg’s brain. Dori grimaced as bits and pieces spattered about, landing haphazardly with sickening _splat_ sounds.

Nori wore an expression of intent focus as he wrestled with a warg across the ground. As the creature prepared to swallow Nori’s head, two jagged fleshing knives flashed out and easily boned out the beast’s heart and liver. Nori pushed the body away from him and stood, caked in gore but still grinning.

Glóin was a maniac in battle, slashing and hacking in great sprays of body fluid which soaked his entire being in a rank and disgusting glaze. He worked the arched head of his axe into places that would seem impossible, hooking the blade into the back of the neck or underneath the breastbone. When he was forced to push deep, he locked the beasts in intense straddle-holds and drew out for them a long and excruciating death.

Bifur suddenly heard Thorin hollering at him. “Look out!” Bifur whirled and saw the threat. A massive warg with grungy, bristling hair, manic eyes and frothing mouth was bounding in long leaps right at him. Bifur tried to get his spear around in time, but the warg lunged and clamped its gigantic mouth around him.

Time seemed to slow. His spear splintered with a _snap_ and the pieces skittered out of his reach. Bifur screamed as the long fangs tore at his flesh and clothing, groaning and coughing as he was slammed against the ground. He rolled with the warg on top of him, using what air he had left to howl in unearthly pain and terror.

Dwalin was fighting, trying to get to Bifur, but he had five beasts after him, overpowering him in a mad scramble for his blood. He kicked at them, cursing and glancing wildly around. Four of the party was dead. Those who still lived were given no quarter either; no one was free to help Bifur.

At that moment Dwalin saw a different Dwarf appear, dragging a mattock that was far too big for him. He was scuttling as fast as he could toward Bifur, who was brawling with the warg, yanking teeth from its mouth and pulling hair and screeching nonsensically.

The stranger at last reached his destination and, with a great heave, brought the mattock smashing down on the warg’s head. The creature’s skull was bashed in and its insides spattered across the stranger’s shirtfront, causing a groan of disgust.

Exhausted, Bifur flopped weakly about, trying to get himself unpinned. With an alarmed cry Bofur dropped the mattock to the dust and slammed his shoulder against the hairy carcass, bowling it off his cousin. Bofur knelt and shook Bifur’s shoulder.

“Are ye alright? Bifur, answer me!”

Bifur blinked dazedly and his bloodstained brows furrowed in confusion. “Bofur... _NananZinlaz_...Durin’s beard, what’re you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I've finally come up with Bofur's true Dwarven name. Bifur said it in case none of you noticed: 'NananZinlaz', which is 'nanan' and 'zinlaz' combined. It means 'dark star'. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur gets treatment that is rather unexpected.

“Ye foolish boy! Ye worried us sick an’ let me tell ye there’ll be no huntin’ trips fer ye at least three years t’ come!”

Bifur, leaning heavily upon his cousin, felt Bofur cringe at his mother’s words. “I was helpin’ cousin Bifur, Ama,” Bofur tried to protest. “He was about t’ get eaten by a warg—!”

“I don’t want t’ hear it,” Joniver cut in sternly. “Just bring him in here an’ we’ll get him patched up. As fer ye, ye’re goin’ t’ yer room to wait fer yer adad. He’s sure t’ want a talk with ye.”

Bofur pursed his lips and nodded silently. Bifur squeezed his shoulder, trying to comfort him, but he could see it wasn’t working. Bifur carefully released his cousin and limped over to the chair his aunt indicated, sinking down with a pained expression on his face.

As Joniver worked his shirt off, Bifur said softly, “He did a great thing out there.”

Joniver ignored the statement, instead reaching for a bowl of liquid and a cloth. “This’ll sting a bit,” she warned him.

Bifur winced and just barely suppressed a groan as Aunt Joniver cleaned his wounds. ‘Sting a bit’ was putting mildly the scorching acidic sensation biting at his tender flesh. And yet he forced himself to continue.

“If it’d not been for Bofur, I wouldn’t be here. He singlehandedly killed a warg and saved my life. And...” Bifur hesitated. He didn’t want to sound judgmental or correcting, but he had to say it. “...you sent him to his room like a child who’d muddied his trousers.”

Joniver looked up at him, eyes dark. “He deliberately disobeyed me. He stole his adad’s weapon an’ left without our permission. D’ye think I can just ignore that?”

“No, but you could thank him for bringing me home,” Bifur replied steadily.

“Ye don’t understand. D’ye have young’uns? Children ye’re t’ care fer? If ye did, would ye just let them get away with everythin’?!” Joniver truly looked angry now. “He needs t’ learn obedience an’ if we slack off now, he’ll nev’r learn! Trust me, nephew, once ye have children ye’ll know what it feels like—”

“Agh!” Bifur cried out in pain, pushing her hand away and pressing his own to his wounds. Joniver had been growing more forceful with each word and the acidic burning had become extreme. Bifur stood shakily, grounding out, “I’ve got to go.” He shrugged his shirt halfway on and limped toward the door. He then paused. “Whatever discipline you give the boy, be sure to thank him for me.”

Again, Joniver didn’t answer.

With a deep sigh Bifur turned his back on her and headed out. As he walked, Bifur heard a voice behind him shout, “Bifur!”

When he turned Bifur saw Bofur, who should have been in his room, dashing toward him. “You’re going to get in more trouble,” Bifur warned as Bofur stopped next to him, panting.

“I...I forgot t’ give this t’ ye,” Bofur gasped, handing Bifur a satchel. At Bifur’s questioning look, Bofur explained, “Tis’ th’ pieces o’ yer spear. Th’ Dwarves at th’ local forge can likely repair it.”

“Thank you,” Bifur said gratefully. How this lad was thoughtful enough to grab his shattered spear Bifur would never know. “Bofur. I want you to know that I have a life debt to you now. You saved me.”

Bofur flushed and gave a halfhearted smile. “Don’t mean much. I still got in trouble.”

“Sometimes life will be like that,” Bifur told him. “But once you’ve lived out whatever punishment your parents give you, I want you to come with me to the forge and we’ll make something of these.” He reached in his pocket and held out two wickedly sharp warg teeth. Bofur’s eyes widened and his grin became genuine.

“I know just what t’ do with ’em!”

 

__Many years later__

 

Bofur laughed in delight as he fingered his old bone earring, made from the tooth of that warg he'd killed. He'd put it in his dresser and forgotten about it for a long time and now here it was again.

“Bom’, look what I found!” he cried excitedly, turning to his brother.

Bombur, who was portioning out food into their two packs, wrinkled his nose as he saw what Bofur was holding. “You're going to wear that on the Quest?” Bombur asked incredulously.

“Oh, o’course!” Bofur laughed as he hooked it on. “Maybe by the end of it all I'll have another one to match!”


End file.
